Words, Words, Words
by Craic agus Ceol
Summary: When Riley's estranged brother shows up, Ben isn't entirely sure how to handle it. Riley seems happy enough with his older brother back, but Ben certainly does not trust Alan Poole. What are Alan's real motives for reentering Riley's life?
1. Unheralded

**A/n - **My, it's been a while since I wrote a giant pre-story Author's Note! Heck, it's been a while since I posted anything of length. Believe me, this story is going to be of length -- or at least I hope it does. I'm making a game attempt at breaking 20 chapters, which I've never done. So I hope you all in for the long haul, especially because my updating schedule will be erratic, what with college and Script Frenzy and attempting to write a decent end to my novel. But I do hope you stick around!

Also, I'll do my best to answer reviews. I'm not making any promises with regards to that, since I always seem to break it. If I drop off from answering reviews, don't think I don't appreciate it!

**Disclaimer - **Anything recognizable doesn't belong to me. Unless, of course, you're familiar with some of my earlier stories and notice the tiny references I make. Those references do, in fact belong to me. Regardless of those references, this story is **NOT **related to anything I've written before.

Oh, and this story takes place between NT1 and NT2 and is prior to Ben and Abigail breaking up.

Acknowledgments go to my beta, my Script Frenzy partner-in-crime, and one of my best friends, **Rhiannon Aurorafai**. Any and all remaining mistakes belong to me.

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_**Unheralded  
**__[uhn-her-uhl-did]__  
–adjective__  
1. appearing without fanfare, publicity, or advance acclaim  
2. appearing without warning or prior announcement; unexpected_

_

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_

"This'll only take a minute," Riley said as he headed into the living room of his small apartment. I followed, rolling my eyes. Of course Riley would forget his ticket. I had only reminded him twenty times to make sure he had his ticket before he left his apartment. Now we were here searching for the errant piece of paper, and I was sure we'd miss the start of the game. Granted, I'm not a big baseball fan, but at least I make an effort to be on time wherever I go, baseball game or no. Riley, on the other hand, was chronically late for everything. It was the bane of every museum curator, talk show host, and magazine photographer we'd met since we found the Templar treasure.

"I somehow don't think your concept of 'a minute' and mine match up exactly," I noted, more to myself than my friend. He wasn't listening anyway; he was more concerned with digging through the piles of random stuff littering the apartment. Riley's abode was not exactly the neatest place I had ever been. There were piles of papers, books, DVDs, video games, remotes, and various other electronics covering every flat (and not-so-flat) surface in the room. I could only guess that the other rooms in the house were just as cluttered. In fact, the only clean thing in the room was the fish tank, which contained an eccentric collection of brightly colored fish. I watched them for a moment, waiting for Riley's reply. I didn't dare try to find somewhere to sit. Last time I moved something in Riley's apartment, Riley had basically gone ballistic. Who would've thought that a simple stack of _Popular Mechanics _would have been so imperative to the feng shui of the room?

"Fine, this'll only take _five _minutes!" Riley retorted, having moved from the living room into the bedroom. "Whoa!" Riley's cry was accompanied by a few thumps. I was briefly amused by the idea of Riley being buried in DVDs and magazines, but if something heavy had fallen on him, he could really be hurt. I cast a worried glance in the direction of the bedroom.

"Are you alright?" I asked concernedly.

"Um, yeah. I'm fine. I just remembered that I should _never _open this closet. Ever," Riley sounded no worse for the wear, and I sighed. "Now I have to clean this mess up too…" he trailed off. I smiled and shook my head ruefully. There wasn't much of a chance that Riley was going to do any cleaning in the near future. I never understood how Riley kept his computer files so neat and organized while his apartment looked like the aftermath of a tornado.

"Maybe you put it up on your 'fridge," I suggested, heading for small kitchen. To my amusement, the kitchen was just as cluttered as the living room. All the counter space was taken up by piles of papers, except for one small area that I presumed Riley used for cooking – or pouring a bowl of cereal, which was more likely. Riley wasn't much for the culinary arts, though to be honest, I wasn't either.

The refrigerator itself was barely visible underneath all of the flyers, telephone numbers, take-out menus, photos, reminders, IOUs, addresses, and drawings. I pondered the drawings for a moment, wondering how Riley had managed to accrue a decent collection of children's doodles. As far as I knew, Riley didn't have any young relatives. Perhaps he had been given them by children living in the same apartment complex. At any rate, there were no tickets on the refrigerator.

"Doubtful," Riley replied, poking his head into the kitchen. "I have no idea where it got to! I had it yesterday when you reminded me forty times to make sure I didn't forget it…" He trailed off, thinking hard.

"What did you do yesterday?" I inquired. I flipped through one of the books on the counter idly. I'd never really pegged Riley as a bibliophile, but his apartment seemed to have an inordinate amount of books in it. Most of them were well-worn too, indicating that they'd been read several times. Some of the titles were a little surprising as well, ranging from classics such as _Dracula _to popular fiction like _Harry Potter_. Though, of course, there was the standard computer-geek fare of _Lord of the Rings_, one of which had been lying open on his coffee table atop the rest of the mess.

"I was fixing my neighbor's computer, so I was inside all day. And I fed the fish… you don't think I dropped it in the fish tank, do you?" horror registered on Riley's face. I gave him a skeptical look.

"I think you would've noticed if you'd dropped a ticket in the fish tank," I replied. "I honestly have no idea how you keep track of anything in this mess." I idly shuffled through one of the piles on the counter and uncovered a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. I was hardly surprised. It certainly wasn't the first Alexandre Dumas book I'd found in Riley's possession.

"Hey, I was looking for that!" Riley exclaimed, practically leaping forward and snatching the book from my hands. He extracted the bookmark and grinned, though he did take the time to find another random piece of paper to mark his page.

"Is that the ticket?" I asked, leaning forward expectantly. I was eager to get going. If we left now, we would probably still catch the first pitch. Riley gave me a sheepish grin and pocketed the piece of paper.

"Nah, just the number of a cute girl I met once at Starbuck's. She was happy to see someone else had an appreciation for Alexandre Dumas and we ended up sitting there for nearly an hour talking," Riley was blushing now, and I was grinning at his discomfort. I'd known Riley for quite some time and I'd been witness to his incredible shyness and apparent inability to interact with women he found attractive. He'd received endless ribbing about it by the other men in our original treasure-hunting group.

"Alright, Romeo, we have a baseball game we're supposed to be getting to. What else did you do yesterday?" I leaned back against the counter nonchalantly. This whole 'missing object' scenario was not a terribly rare one for Riley. He called me at least once a week asking if I'd seen something that he'd misplaced.

"I don't know. I was home all day! I had it when you called; I specifically remember taking it out of my wallet. I just don't remember where I put it," Riley sighed. "We're probably going to be here a while – I'm going to grab a snack or something. You want anything?"

"I'm good," I replied. In all honesty, I wasn't too disappointed in missing part of the baseball game. I wasn't particularly one for sports, but one of Abigail's friends was a huge baseball fan. Abigail's friend had the tickets, but she had been unable to attend the game and had bequeathed the tickets to Abigail and I. Abigail had back-to-back meetings all day, but had suggested that I bring Riley along for a 'guy's day out'. Riley had been less than enthusiastic – he wasn't much of a sports fan either – but Abigail had insisted we go. I wasn't one to argue with Abigail. She got her way more often than not. So here we were, searching Riley's apartment for his ticket. I realized that I probably shouldn't have allowed him to keep track of his own ticket in the first place. If I hadn't, we would've been at the baseball stadium half an hour ago.

Riley opened his mouth to retort as he began to rifle through his cabinets, which had even more auxiliary clutter, but he was interrupted by someone knocking on the front door. He sighed heavily.

"You mind answering that, Ben? If it's Natalie, tell her I can't babysit her twin terrors today, as much as I'd love to. I have other plans. And tell her that I'm going to a baseball game with a friend, not a date with a girl. Explain that to her very clearly and make sure she gets the point," Riley instructed, opening another cabinet and neatly dodging two DVDs and a bag of cookie cutters. I stared at the cookie cutters bemusedly and wondered where on Earth he'd gotten them.

I didn't even bother informing Riley that I had no idea who Natalie was. I figured that if the person at the door inquired about babysitting, I'd have my answer. Besides, the babysitting thing satisfied my curiosity as to the origin of the doodles on Riley's refrigerator.

"Oh, and if it's the Newspaper Thief surrendering himself, let me know!" Riley called from the kitchen. I didn't even _want _to know what Riley meant by that.

I answered the door to a man I'd never seen before. He was only a bit shorter than I was, and he was well-dressed. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and it was slicked back neatly. He looked vaguely familiar, I realized, but I couldn't pinpoint why.

"Oh!" the man said, seeing me. "I was under the impression that a Riley Poole lived here?" He was obviously perplexed by my presence in the doorway. His eyes were a cold greenish-blue color, though the hardness was belied by surprise.

"He does, I'm just a friend. You wouldn't happen to be the Newspaper Thief, would you?" I asked. The visitor looked incredibly surprised and confused. I mentally shook my head at the foolish second sentence. It was something Riley would say, and I was beginning to wonder if he was actually rubbing off on me.

"I… um, no?" the man asked, scowling a bit. I offered a small, rueful smile. I almost felt sorry for the visitor. If he was put off by one of my random comments, he wouldn't be able to handle Riley very well.

"Riley! Someone's at the door for you!" I called towards the kitchen.

"No, really? I thought they'd be looking for you!" Riley retorted sarcastically. He entered the living room, grinning widely. "You know, you were right about the refrigerator – I found the ticket in there! Though I can't for the life of me figure out how it got…" Riley froze when he caught sight of the visitor. He opened his mouth once or twice, but no sound came out. I looked from one man to the other, trying to figure out what would garner such a reaction.

"Hello, Riley," the man said, offering a small smile. "Long time, no see." I was perplexed by this entire exchange. Obviously Riley and the visitor knew each other, but I still couldn't figure out Riley's odd reaction. He looked happy and nervous, with a slight hint of fear. I had certainly seen Riley afraid before, what with our adventures hunting for the Templar treasure, but Riley had never been both scared and happy. It almost seemed like an oxymoron.

"Alan?" Riley asked. There was a strange choked quality to his voice, and I wondered if Riley was on the verge of tears. I desperately wanted to know who the visitor was and why he evoked such a reaction in the younger man. Though knowing Riley and his penchant for saying everything that came to mind, I would find out sooner or later.

"In the flesh, kiddo," the visitor, Alan, smiled. There was a strange quality to the expression that set me on edge, but I couldn't figure out why. After all, I didn't even know this man; I could hardly judge his character based on a first impression. After all, the entire historical community had considered me to be a raving lunatic when they first encountered me. They had to have been kicking themselves when they realized that I had been right all along about the treasure.

A moment of absolute silence passed between the three of us. Suddenly, Alan stepped forward into the apartment and enveloped Riley in a fierce embrace. I was stunned into inaction, and Riley seemed just as surprised. Another moment passed before Riley hesitantly returned the hug.

"God, kid, it's been too long," Alan said quietly, releasing Riley and holding him out at arm's length. "You grew up well." Riley, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, directed his attention towards me. Being very confused with the entire scenario, I just stared back at him. I also couldn't prevent a strange protective instinct from flaring up. Riley wasn't the most tactile of people, preferring to initiate contact rather than having it thrust upon him. I couldn't count the number of times a friendly hand on the shoulder had been quickly shrugged off, especially during our first months of working together. Nowadays Riley didn't mind so much, but he still obviously preferred to make the first move.

"Ben," Riley said, redirecting the attention of everyone in the room. Alan finally seemed to recall my presence in the room, and he released Riley to turn towards me. "Ben, this is my older brother Alan."

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So, how would you feel about clicking the pretty green review button? Pretty please?  
Hopefully the next chapter won't take too long to post. It all depends on how real life treats me and how the script comes along.  
Until next time!

~Craic


	2. Impression

**A/n -** I'm so, so very sorry for taking so long to update! I've been very stressed out lately with midterms and fire. See, there was this massive wildfire in the mountains above my city, necessitating huge evacuations. My school was not evacuated or in any sort of danger, but we did host many evacuees. It rained ash for a day and a half, and the entire situation was very scary. But the fire is mostly contained now (thankfully), and I give you a new chapter!

**Note: **this has not been betaed, since my beloved beta **Rhiannon Aurorafai** is currently undergoing her own stresses of apartment hunting and looming finals. All mistakes belong to me. On that note...

**Disclaimer:** anything recognizable, with the exception of Alan Poole, does not belong to me.

**PS - **For anyone who is wondering, Rhia and I did successfully complete Script Frenzy. Go us!

**PPS - **I forgot to mention this last time, but I'm taking the words and definitions from the amazingly useful dictionary(dot)com.

**EDIT - **Thanks to **HyperMint** for the quick fix. I really need to stop this "Do All Writing at 2am" nonsense; every now and then something will slip by my pre-upload readthroughs... also, thanks to **thelastblack13 **for pointing out a really dumb mistake. Epic baseball fan fail.

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_**Im****pres****sio****n**__  
[im-presh-uhn]__  
-noun  
1. a strong effect produced on the intellect, feelings, conscience, etc.  
2. the first and immediate effect of an experience or perception upon the mind; sensation.  
[only first two definitions are provided]_

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To say that I was stunned would be an understatement. I hadn't known Riley had any sort of family. It wasn't something we discussed very much. Nobody in our original treasure-hunting group had much in the way of family; it would have gotten in the way, what with all the travelling we did. I'd always figured Riley was the same way. Looking between the two brothers, I could now see why Alan looked so familiar. There was a definite family resemblance between the two Poole men. Not quite enough of one for me to pick Alan out of a crowd as a member of the Poole family, but when they were standing together I could tell they were related.

"Alan, this is my friend, Ben Gates," Riley was introducing me to his brother, and I snapped out of my thoughts long enough to shake his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Ben Gates. I've heard a lot about you," Alan smiled at me, though I could see that it wasn't simply a friendly smile. The tone of his voice was decidedly slimy, and I realized he didn't know of me as Riley's friend. He knew of me as 'Benjamin Gates, Finder of the Templar Treasure'. And that meant he was going to attempt to ingratiate himself with me. I really, really hated those people.

Riley, however didn't seem to notice the smarmy action of his older brother. In fact, he seemed to have gotten over the mysterious initial reaction to Alan and was now brightly smiling. He'd probably just been surprised to have his brother turn up on his doorstep. Regardless of Riley's apparent happiness, I still wasn't entirely sure I trusted Alan. Riley certainly seemed to like him enough, though, and for now that was good enough for me.

Though the real question was why Alan didn't know me through Riley. Surely Riley would've talked to him at some point? It may sound conceited, but I liked to think of myself as Riley's closest friend. Close friends was something that would come up in the average "how are you doing?" phone conversation. Either the brothers hadn't spoken in a while, or Riley didn't quite think of me in the same friendly terms that I thought of him. Both thoughts were mildly troubling, though for decidedly different reasons.

"Alan, what are you doing here?" Riley asked, drawing me out of my pondering. It wasn't any sort of accusation or dismay at the fact that Alan had randomly turned up on Riley's doorstep, though in my opinion it should've been. Alan just smiled; it was a thin, predatory expression that I did not like at all. Something about Alan Poole just seemed to rub me the wrong way. But this was Riley's brother. If Riley didn't have a problem with him, then neither did I.

It would have been nice for the rest of my brain to agree with whatever part had just come up with that particular thought.

"I have to have an excuse to visit my little brother?" Alan cuffed Riley lightly on the back of his head. Riley winced, but the expression flitted by so fast I nearly missed it. I scowled, though both Poole brothers were oblivious to my reaction. It was obvious that Alan knew nothing about how to treat his brother. He of all people should know that Riley didn't like being touched. Even a seemingly brotherly action, such as a playful swat to the head, would not be perceived as such by the younger man.

"No," Riley said, offering a small smile. "But you should've called first. Ben and I are going to a baseball game today."

"Really?" Alan's eyes lit up. "Orioles vs. the Yankees? Should be a great game; the rivalry's pretty fierce. I guess you finally grew into a love for sports, kiddo." Somehow I wasn't surprised that Riley had never been interested in sports. I finally realized one upside of Riley's brother visiting. Perhaps I could divulge some interesting facts about Riley's childhood; Riley never seemed particularly keen on talking about it, but I was certain he'd have some humorous childhood anecdotes. After all, he has plenty of them from his adult years, and surely his younger years wouldn't have been much different.

"Not really," Riley shook his head. "A friend of a friend gave us the tickets. We're going for lack of something more interesting to do."

Alan sighed, the interest flickering from his face. "Ah, I should've known. It did seem too good to be true that you'd suddenly pick up an interest in real physical activity. You know, all that sedentary computer work can wreck havoc on your figure." Riley frowned a bit and glanced down at his stomach. I nearly rolled my eyes. Riley is one of the scrawniest people I know. He's always been on the lean side; when I picked him up to join the Templar expedition, I had wondered if he wasn't actually living in some sort of shelter. I soon learned that his small figure had nothing to do with how much he ate. That kid could eat as much as a football player and still be thin as a rail.

One might have perceived Alan's comment as a brotherly jibe, but I could hear a derisive tone to his voice. I once prided myself on good judgment with regards to people, but after the fiasco with Ian Howe on the Charlotte I wasn't so sure. Maybe Alan wasn't a bad guy despite the fact he apparently didn't know how to act around Riley. I had the impression that they hadn't talked in some time; it was possible that they had grown apart and would need some time to reconnect.

Regardless of whether or not I should trust my judgment, I knew that I did not like Alan Poole. Good guy or no, I questioned his motives. It didn't seem to me that he was simply here to visit his brother. The timing was too coincidental – we had just found the Templar treasure, after all. Riley may still live in his small, messy apartment, but the kid has a Ferrari Spyder and an entertainment system that surpassed that of some small movie theaters. The rest of his money was probably holed up somewhere. I wouldn't be surprised if it was in a shoe box under his bed. Riley didn't trust banks. He explained it to me once, something about how their computer systems were not failsafe, but I had mostly tuned him out as I usually did when he went off on a techno-babble tangent. I had the sneaking suspicion he did the same thing to me whenever I started talking about history.

"But seriously, Alan, what are you doing here? Where have you been the past few years?" Riley asked, tilting his head to one side. I watched in interest. Both men had forgotten I was in the room. I had no intentions of reminding them I was there, baseball game or no. I was interested in who the enigmatic Alan Poole was, and his relation to Riley. It was apparent that the brothers hadn't seen one another in quite some time. Because I knew next to nothing about Riley's life prior to his joining our treasure hunt, I hoped that Alan would lend some insight. As sneaky and underhanded as it sounds, I knew it was probably the only way I'd learn anything about my younger friend. Whether or not I could put up with Alan Poole long enough was an entirely different story.

"Doing this and that," Alan shrugged, "nothing particularly noteworthy. Though I see you've been quite busy, Riley! Treasure hunting? I had thought you'd grown out of that when you were twelve!" Riley flushed. I frowned. I wanted to know about Riley, but not if Alan was going to deride him the entire time. It wasn't worth it.

"Pretending to be Indiana Jones in the backyard and finding a centuries-old Templar treasure cache is not the same thing, Alan," Riley replied. However, the remark was not coupled with Riley's usual dry tone and smirk. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit usually attributed to me. Something very odd was going on here, of that I was certain. On one hand, he seemed very happy to see Alan. On the other, his entire personality had changed. I had always imagined there were facets to Riley's personality that I'd never seen – after all, a person cannot be the plucky comic relief all the time – but I hadn't expected the dichotomy to be so extreme.

"So Riley, we have some catching up to do. How about lunch? I'm sure your friend wouldn't mind me borrowing you for a few hours; after all, I am your brother," Alan grinned at me. Alan's tone left no room for argument, as if he was in control of Riley. And he pulled the brother card, which was entirely unfair; I had the impression the Pooles had a less than brotherly relationship, at least in recent years. I was ready to leap to Riley's defense, but to my surprise he beat me to it.

"As I said before, Alan, I already have plans for today. Remember? Baseball game? Orioles vs. the Yankees? I'll have lunch with you tomorrow, but I'm busy today," Well, maybe 'defending himself' was a bit strong for his dismissal of Alan's plans, but it was more than I was used to from Riley. He tended to roll with the punches. He folded his arms and did the best impression of a stern face he was capable of. His features didn't mold themselves well into seriousness – he was too used to grinning. The result was nearly comical, and I probably would've smiled had I not been so irritated with Alan.

Alan scowled and I wondered for a moment if he was going to hit Riley. I got the impression that Alan was not used to being refused for anything, and I wondered what business he could possibly be in. If Alan had any intention of getting Riley into something, I was going to have rather serious words with him. Though I could trust Riley to stick to his judgment, he could be a bit eager-to-please. I wondered if it had anything to do with Alan. Alan seemed like the sort that would do anything to get his way; he would be happy to have a little brother that went along with everything as Riley did. Or perhaps Alan had made Riley into that person, getting angry whenever his little brother didn't do exactly what he said. The thought was troubling.

The tension in the room suddenly relaxed as Alan's scowl fell. He gave a small shrug and cuffed Riley on the back of the head again. Riley looked at him in utter confusion.

"What was that for?" He asked, and I could hear the hurt in his voice. It took a trained ear to notice it, but I'd known Riley for a few years now. I knew the little nuances of his personality, like how he'd always sing when he was driving. Even in his old van he'd had a converter for his tape deck so he could plug in his iPod. Though I hadn't known about his bibliophile tendencies, it did explain why he always seemed to have some sort of book when his beloved laptop didn't pick up Wi-Fi.

"'Cause I'm your big brother," Alan teased. Riley muttered something, looking away. I didn't hear it, but apparently Alan did. His voice lowered to a growl as he stepped closer to Riley.

"That doesn't matter, I'm still your big brother; you still have to listen to me," Unlike Riley, Alan was not capable of keeping his voice low. Even when growling, he was still easily audible. I was stunned at Alan's sudden ferocity. Riley leaned away from Alan, taking a step away nervously. I half-expected Riley to turn to me and cancel our game plans. It hurt to see Riley so deferential to Alan.

"Hey, back off!" I found my voice and gave Alan a light shove, moving him away from Riley. I wasn't about to let anyone push Riley around like that, whether he liked it or not. Once Alan was out of Riley's face, I could feel Riley relax behind me.

"Who do you think you are?" Alan turned on me, fists clenched. I genuinely thought Alan was going to hit me for a moment. The terse situation held for a few seconds, but Riley's small voice interrupted our staring match.

"Alan, just go. I'll call you tonight so we can discuss lunch," Riley was slouched against the wall, his hands crossed over his chest. He was hunched over a bit, obviously nervous and withdrawn. However, Riley's quiet words worked on Alan, who also relaxed. The fury drained from Alan's dark blue eyes and he adopted a very casual stance. I did not relax. I didn't trust Alan at all. His temper worried me, and I was glad I had stepped between the brothers. If it had come to blows, I knew that Riley would have come out worse for wear. He was second to none in verbal sparring, but in actual fisticuffs he was the definite underdog.

"Alright, kiddo, if that's how you want it. Enjoy your baseball game!" Alan left as suddenly as he had arrived, with no pomp or circumstance whatsoever. Riley relaxed, letting his hands drop. He looked at me and offered a wary smile. The wariness was probably warranted – I had been prepared to beat up his brother thirty seconds prior. I forced myself to relax as well; Alan was gone, as was the immediate threat.

"You OK?" I asked, tentatively taking a few steps towards him. Thankfully he didn't flinch away from me. I had been worried he might not appreciate the closeness.

"I'm fine," And there it was, Riley's signature evasion. It was a good rule of thumb that if Riley claimed he was fine, he most certainly wasn't. I had learned that one the hard way when he'd come down with some sort of illness; I found him later curled up next to the toilet, vomiting his guts out. It hadn't really been pleasant for either of us.

"If you say so," I replied with a shrug. If Riley had taught me anything, it was patience. He didn't appreciate being pushed into anything against his will. My father had accused me of dragging Riley into my preoccupation with the treasure, but I knew that Riley had made every move at his own discretion.

"So how about that baseball game?" Riley grinned, almost as if the entire incident with Alan Poole hadn't happened. I blinked. That was new. Riley had never really done that whole personality-flip before. Sure, I'd seen him go quiet before. Usually any mention of family would cause him to withdraw into himself a bit, but he would always recover quickly. Up until now, he'd always kept the persona of the slightly-pessimistic but plucky comic relief, though he'd probably wipe my hard drive if I ever referred to him as such. But with Alan, he was almost an entirely different person. He was quiet and submissive, which seriously bothered me. I didn't like seeing him like that, and I hoped I never would again. Unfortunately, it seemed that Alan's presence triggered the change in Riley, and I was sure I hadn't seen the last of Alan Poole.

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Thanks for reading, all!  
I certainly hope the next chapter won't take a month to post.  
I figure that it all depends on the upcoming papers due and whether or not the mountains decide to burst into flames again.  
Please press the pretty green review button and tell me what you think!  
Until next time!

~Craic


	3. Paradox

**A/n - **School's finally out! Finals went well enough, thank you for asking, and now I get to sit back, relax... and spend all summer job-hunting. Argh. Also, it seems I'm going to be updating once a month. That's the trend I've noticed in my posting, so I'm just going to go with it. If I update more often, then everyone can appreciate the pleasant surprise.

**Disclaimer - **I don't own Ben, Riley, the Baltimore Orioles, Neil Gaiman, or Cracker Jacks.

**Also - **Thanks a ton to my beta, **Rhiannon Aurorafai**. This chapter doubles as her birthday present, for her birthday was on Saturday! Happy Birthday, dear!

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**_Paradox_**  
_[par-uh-doks]  
-noun  
1. a statement or proposition that seems self-contradictory or absurd but in reality expresses a possible truth  
2. a self-contradictory and false proposition  
3. any person, thing, or situation exhibiting an apparently contradictory nature  
4. an opinion or statement contrary to commonly accepted opinion_

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To say that Riley was a complex individual would be an understatement. Most people only saw the goofy facet of his personality, the part of him that employed dry wit and sardonic remarks. It was this 'comical Riley' that accompanied me to the baseball game, despite the heavy conversation he'd had with Alan in the apartment. He spent much of the time quizzing me about the historicalness of our so-called "National Pastime" and teasing me when I didn't know much about it. My extent of knowledge extends towards _real _history, not trivia about baseball and its entrenchment in American Culture. At any rate, it was good to see Riley laughing again, even if it was at me. I had the feeling that what had gone on in his apartment had dredged up some old issues that Riley would much rather ignore and forget.

See, I knew the "other" Riley, the parts of his personality that didn't quite mesh with a happy-go-lucky computer geek. Somewhere under the carefree façade was an intelligent, thoughtful, and loyal young man. It was the other Riley that had impressed Ian and I enough to allow him into our group of treasure hunters. He was the one that discovered the Charlotte – I'm not too proud to admit we never would've found the ship without Riley's expertise and computer simulations. He had tried to dissuade me from stealing the Declaration, but put all his effort into helping me when he realized I was too stubborn to listen to reason.

Now I was beginning to realize that there was an even deeper part of Riley that I had never really perceived. Yes, I had noticed that Riley didn't talk much about his past. I hadn't ever thought much of it. But witnessing Riley's deference to Alan had been painful to watch. Something in Riley's past had to have caused such a change in Riley's persona; I definitely wanted to know what that something was, but not at the cost of Riley's happiness. If Riley was content to let sleeping dogs lie, then so was I. But Alan was the trigger to whatever was bothering Riley, and I doubted that Alan would stay away. After all, he'd tracked Riley down, and I felt that Alan was not one to abandon projects halfway through. I hoped that Alan's project, whatever it was, wouldn't bring any harm to the younger Poole sibling.

"Ben!" Riley's voice broke through my reverie. He was giving me an odd look, and I suspected he'd said my name a few times now. I couldn't help getting lost in my own thoughts sometimes, which served as an annoyance to both Riley and Abigail.

"Yes, Riley?" I asked, devoting my whole attention on him. The crowd around us erupted into obscenities, drowning out whatever Riley had been trying to say. He frowned and waited patiently for the angry shouts to subside. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'I really hate sports', and I couldn't help but smirk.

"I'm hungry!" Riley finally stated, folding his arms. I looked at the ground under his chair, noting a large, empty bag of peanuts and a hot dog wrapper.

"How could you possibly be hungry?" I asked, arching my eyebrows at him. Riley had a small, thin frame, but it didn't keep him from eating like a starved football player. I honestly didn't know where he put all the food he consumed. It certainly didn't stick to his bones, and I knew that Riley wasn't much for working out. Oh, the metabolism of youth.

"I suddenly have the craving for one of those jumbo pretzels. You want anything?" Riley asked. I wasn't really hungry, but Riley paying for something was too good an opportunity to pass up. The kid had more money than the average person knew what to do with, yet he was still the biggest moocher I knew. It probably didn't help that I frequently indulged him. I'm not exactly pressed for money either.

"A box of Cracker Jack then," I replied. When it comes to standard baseball game food, there's nothing quite as ubiquitous as Cracker Jack. It had a part of US history, as it was developed to be sold at the World's Columbian Exposition in 1893, where electric power was first introduced to the general public. Besides, Riley was sure to want the prize in the box.

"Really, Ben?" Riley asked, crooking his head a bit. "Did you somehow miss the Cracker Jack guy that walked past us two minutes ago?"

"You offered," I shrugged. Riley rolled his eyes dramatically. He made to retort, but he was drowned out by the entire crowd surging to its feet and screaming in joy. Riley jumped, startled by the sudden cacophony.

"I think we missed something," he said, eyeing the crowd warily. I nodded. Neither of us knew much about sports in general, never mind baseball.

"Most likely," I agreed. "Why did we come here, anyway?"

"When you could be home watching the History Channel?" Riley teased. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I certainly hadn't heard _that _joke before. "I think Abigail said something about 'getting out of the house'." On second thought, I was glad we came. I didn't want to think about what would be happening right now if Riley had been alone when Alan showed up. As the saying goes, I trusted Alan about as far as I could toss him.

"I don't just watch the History Channel. Sometimes I watch Discovery, too," It was the standard response to the History Channel joke; Riley knew to expect the answer, and I got the same goofy grin he usually made when I followed the script. But there was something darker about this smile; his eyes were duller and the smile was more fixed. He was trying to act normal, but I could see through the façade. What past did Alan have with Riley that haunted the younger man so much? As much as I wanted to know, I wasn't eager to have Alan around long enough to find out. The sooner Alan left, the better. I had a suspicion that Alan's presence, even if it was only mental at the moment, was what was dragging Riley down.

"Hey, kid, make up your mind – are you going or staying? Some of us are trying to watch the game!" a man sitting behind us growled at Riley. He was wearing an Orioles cap and had a dark look on his face. Riley took one look at the burly man and sat down with wide eyes. I mentally sighed in relief. The Orioles fan was both muscled and irate, which was an unnerving combination. The last thing I wanted was to see a baseball stadium fistfight, especially if it involved Riley. I doubted my computer geek friend would prove much of an opponent.

"I really hate sports," Riley muttered, and I smiled a bit. I could think of one advantage to being here: Riley wasn't at home. I didn't trust Alan at all. His anger with Riley scared me. What kind of household had the Pooles grown up in? I wasn't sure Riley was willing to talk much about his family, but I could always try. After all, it would be standard for me to inquire about the sudden arrival of a long-lost member of Riley's family, especially considering the fact that Riley had never mentioned family before.

"So Alan's your brother?" I asked. Riley seemed surprised and a bit worried at the sudden topic change.

"Yeah. Older than me by five years," Riley replied warily. He frowned faintly, trying to ascertain my motives. I wasn't going to give in quite that easily, but I would know when to stop. I didn't want to hurt him by dredging up unpleasant memories.

"Five years?" That was a fairly decent-sized gap between the siblings, but it wasn't unheard of. "He seems like a nice guy." Riley's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Ian had been absolutely correct in saying I didn't have a poker face, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to try. Obviously Riley didn't believe me for a second. Even I couldn't believe I just called Alan a 'nice guy'.

"Sure," Riley's voice was absolutely toneless, and I knew to back off. We both were silent for several moments. At least I knew the age difference between the Poole siblings, for what good it did me. On the other hand, Riley knew that I didn't like Alan -- and he didn't have a problem with it. I had the impression that he wasn't overly fond of his big brother either.

"Do you still want a pretzel?" I asked, changing the subject before the silence dragged on too long. I had to get Riley's mind off his past – it was obviously distressing to him. I also needed to give the kid some space to pull himself back together. I didn't like the despondent look on his face, like he was reliving some unpleasant memories. What could have happened to Riley that made him so scared of his past?

On second thought, I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't bear the thought of anything so bad happening to my young friend, regardless if it was then or now. It was a perplexing emotion. I wanted to know, yet I didn't want to dredge up painful memories. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Riley further.

"Sure," Riley repeated, but there was a bit more life behind it this time. Good. I knew offerings of food would draw Riley back from whatever mental precipice he was skirting.

By the time I returned with my peace offering, Riley was engaged in an animated discussion with the burly Orioles fan behind us. I immediately suspected trouble. Seriously, I leave Riley alone for five minutes…

"Ben, you won't believe this guy!" Riley saw me almost immediately. I'm almost positive he has some sort of 'Ben Radar'. It's almost impossible for me to sneak up on him, unless he's deeply engrossed in some sort of hacking project. I think it was how he zeroed in on me in the first place – he had been one kid in a sea of cubicles, and I had accidentally gotten off the elevator on the wrong floor. He had noticed I was lost and helped me find the proper floor, and when he asked why I was looking for a company CEO (who happened to be an avid collector of Colonial American trinkets), the partnership was born. He'd begged to join the expedition, and who could resist Riley's puppy dog eyes?

"Oh really?" I asked, still wary. Riley didn't seem to be in any danger whatsoever. In fact, he was practically vibrating with excitement. Just a few moments ago he was stoic and withdrawn. Either he was remarkably quick at burying pain or he was an amazing actor. Both prospects were troublesome.

"He's actually met Neil Gaiman!" I fought the urge to shake my head and sigh. Of course Riley would attempt to make friends with the angry man sitting behind us. Of course he would succeed. And of course Riley would find out the weirdest facts about him. If I possessed Riley's amicability and open, earnest inquisitiveness, I wouldn't have any problems finding out the Poole family history. I had much more of a blunt approach when it came to questions, which was probably part of the reason I was tossed from so many academic and government institutions. I'm not too proud to admit it.

"That's lovely. Do you want your pretzel?" I handed the oversized complex carbohydrate to him.

"Mmm. Salt-covered death," Riley said, grinning at me. It was almost as if I'd never brought Alan up. It worried me that Riley could shut himself off like that. I was beginning to wonder how much of his goofiness was just an act, created to hide whatever darkness lurked in his past.

I was torn between curiosity and the desire to keep Riley from getting hurt – if I went digging, I knew I was going to hurt him. Yet I had the feeling thing things were only going to get worse, that whatever was bothering Riley was not going to go away. All I wanted to do was to keep pain away from Riley, even if the pain was a shadow of the past. How could I protect Riley from hurting if I didn't know what was hurting him, especially if inquiring into the matter would cause him pain? I didn't like the paradox presented there. I would have to play the situation by ear. If Alan proved to be a bother, then I'd take care of him. I was not going to let Riley's past, whatever it was, hurt him further, if I could help it.

* * *

Please press the giant green button!  
Thanks for reading!  
Until next time!

~Craic


	4. Colloquy

**A/n - **Oops, I missed my "update once a month" mark. I don't have a legitimate excuse this time, either, except for the fact that I've been quite busy writing other things. One such "other thing," if you'll forgive a momentary divergence and shameless self-pimping, is an original fiction story that my beta and I are writing and posting on fictionpress. If you're interested, the link is on my bio page.

**Disclaimer - **I don't own _National Treasure _or _Office Space_. I did recently receive my Season 1 DVDs of "Leverage," but that's entirely unrelated.

**Also - **Rhiannon Aurorafai read and betaed this chapter, and she frankly saved my butt in a few cases. I guess grammar errors are an ocupational hazard of doing most of my writing at 2am.

* * *

**_Colloquy_  
**_[kol-uh-kwee]  
-noun  
1. a conversational exchange; dialogue  
2. a conference_

* * *

I dropped Riley off at his house after the game. I'd asked him if he'd wanted to come over, with the intent of keeping him away from his apartment. I didn't particularly want Riley to be home alone if Alan showed up again; it was obvious that the older Poole didn't have Riley's best interests at heart. But Riley would have none of it. Evidentially one of his favorite TV shows was airing a new episode, and he wasn't going to miss it for anything. I figured there was no way I could win any argument regarding Riley and his ritualistic TV watching, so I consented to drop him off at his apartment.

I did, however, scan the lot and surrounding parking area for suspicious, unidentifiable cars. I'd been dropping Riley off at this place for years now – I would know if there was a car that shouldn't be there. But there were no out-of-place vehicles, and I deemed it safe for Riley to go to his apartment. I trusted that Alan wouldn't bother Riley again tonight, but I would come up with some excuse to visit tomorrow. I wasn't about to leave Riley alone with Alan, not until I figured out what Alan wanted and why he'd suddenly showed up on Riley's doorstep. It was obvious that the brothers hadn't communicated at all in years, so it was strange that Alan would show up without any sort of fanfare. I was sure that Riley would've mentioned it to me if he'd suddenly heard from a long-lost sibling. Then again, Riley was quite evasive whenever I tried to bring up Alan.

That fact troubled me more than Alan's sudden appearance. It was bizarre to see Riley so quiet about something. Usually the problem was getting the kid to shut up.

By the time I got home, I'd come to the foregone conclusion that _something _had happened to Alan and Riley many years ago that would explain their dysfunctional relationship. The question was no longer simply 'why is Alan here?' It had morphed into 'why is Alan here and why is Riley so wary of him?'

"How was the game, Ben?" Abigail greeted me with a kiss as I walked in the front door. Her easy smile fell as soon as she caught sight of my face. My distress was obvious to her. "What's wrong? Is Riley OK?"

"I don't know," I admitted as I walked into the living room. I sank into one of the chairs and put my head in my hands. Alan really, really bothered me. His relationship with Riley was wrong and his motives were somewhere beyond questionable. I wasn't going to get any help from Riley in figuring Alan out, which made the puzzle infinitely more complicated. How could I dig into Riley's past without his consent? The mere thought of it made me feel dirty.

"What do you mean?" Abigail was immediately concerned. As much as she bickered with Riley over the most inconsequential things, she liked him as much as I did. She treated him like a younger brother, which went pretty far in explaining all the arguing.

Younger brother. What had it been like for Riley, growing up with Alan as an older brother? Surely Alan couldn't have always treated him with scorn.

"I met Alan Poole," I finally replied, realizing that Abigail's worry was growing exponentially for every second I failed to answer. She looked as if she was gearing up to call every hospital in the immediate area to see if a Riley Poole had been admitted.

"Poole?" Abigail frowned. "I assume, then that he's related to Riley somehow."

"Yeah. Alan is Riley's older brother. Apparently there's five years between them." I was slightly annoyed that I was unable to find anything else out about Alan. Where did he live? What job did he have? Did he have any sort of family of his own?

"Riley never mentioned any family," Abigail was just as perplexed as I was about Riley's mysterious family. I mean, the kid wasn't that great at keeping secrets, or even keeping his thoughts to himself. It had gotten him into trouble more than once with Ian and his crew. "Wouldn't he have said something if his family was coming to town?"

"Riley evidentially didn't know he was coming to town," I gave a small shrug. Abigail put a comforting hand on my shoulder, but it was obvious that she still didn't understand what was so wrong with Alan Poole. I wasn't entirely sure if I could describe what problem I had with Alan, either. She would have to meet him herself in order to confirm any sort of suspicion I had, and I was fairly sure that Riley was going to make every effort to keep Abigail from meeting Alan. As excited as he'd been when Alan had initially showed up, Riley seemed very eager to avoid even mentioning his brother.

"I take it you don't like him very much," Abigail commented. It was more than just an innocent observation, I could tell. Abigail was good at creating two-fold meanings. It was lucky that I was just as good at deciphering them. After all, I never would've found the treasure if I wasn't.

"I don't trust him, and I don't want to leave him alone with Riley," I couldn't have been more serious if I'd tried, and Abigail seemed a bit taken aback by it. She matched my seriousness a beat later, however.

"You could've invited him to stay here," she offered. Her hand inched to her cell phone in order to make the call. I mentally thanked her for that. She obviously didn't need to meet Alan herself to realize my concern for Riley; she trusted my judgment. It cemented my conviction that Alan was not the nicest sort of man.

"I tried. Riley wouldn't have any of it," I shook my head. Abigail sighed and finally sat down next to me.

"That's not like him. He usually takes any excuse to spend time here," there was a fond tone in her voice, which was mildly amusing. Most of the time she complains incessantly about Riley's near-constant presence around our house, especially when Riley's within earshot. However, I knew that she actually enjoyed the presence of the younger man. She liked bantering with him and she loved his humorous anecdotes. Besides, even if Riley _did _spend a lot of time visiting, he knew when to make himself scarce. I can think of at least one incident in which he was visiting and we didn't see him at all for two days. I didn't even know he was here – Abigail thought it was hilarious.

"I know," I agreed, "and I think it has something to do with Alan. Riley goes out of his way to avoid talking about him, and when it seems unavoidable he just becomes distant and sad. I don't know what to think."

"Riley must have a good reason for it," Abigail reassured me, though she didn't seem so confident herself. "What do we know about his childhood?" While she said 'we', I could tell she was directing the question at me. After all, I was much more like to know something about Riley than she was.

"Nothing," I said with a sigh. "Nothing at all." Abigail was definitely taken aback by this. She stared at me in obvious bemusement.

"How can you know nothing about him?" she demanded. It was the same incredulous, angry, borderline accusatory tone she'd used when I'd stolen the Declaration. I'd merited the tone then, and I definitely merited it now.

"It never really came up," I said resignedly. "You've known him almost a year now; what do you know about his life prior to the treasure hunt?" She thought hard, but her face soon melted into depression as she came to the same conclusions that I had: Riley was not forthcoming with his past.

"He worked in a cubicle at some random office," she finished lamely. "I believe he compared it to _Office Space_."

"I've known him for three years, and I can't tell you much more than that," It was sad but true. I considered Riley my best friend and yet I knew nothing about who he was or where he'd come from. Yesterday, I thought I'd known him quite well. He was a funny, loyal, intelligent, sarcastic young man with a knack for all things technological. Yet there was so much that I didn't know. Where did he grow up? What family did he have, other than Alan? What had his childhood been like? Where did he go to college? I didn't even know where he went to college!

"Did you ever ask?" Abigail was still unhappy with me, but I had a feeling she was more worried about Riley and dismayed at her own lack of knowledge regarding him than angry at me.

"It never really came up. When we first met, I was so obsessed with finding the treasure that I didn't care who he was, just that he would be a great asset. It was a year before I saw him more as a person instead of just another tool, and by that point it would've been beyond awkward to go through the cursory introductory things I'd missed. Another year later and we were close friends and Ian was threatening him in order to get me to go along with his plan to steal the Declaration of Independence," I don't think I could've been more self-loathing if I'd tried. I knew how coldly I'd treated Riley in that first year, and I'd berated myself for it time and time again. Perhaps I wouldn't be so reliant on Alan to figure out the mysteries of my friend's past if I'd been kinder – and more inquisitive – when we'd first met.

Abigail, for her part, seemed shocked at the revelation of my history with Riley. All she'd ever seen was our camaraderie. She didn't know that our friendship was more of an accident than anything else, the product of an all-night research session and a few too many beers. It had lead to Riley sleeping on my couch and me seriously reevaluating how I'd treated my team, the youngest member in particular.

But Abigail's shock was quickly replaced by sympathy. She could tell how much my history with Riley bothered me. It was amazing that Riley had stuck with me for so long, what with the way I'd treated him.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so amazing. Riley was a very forgiving sort of person. I suspected Riley and Alan hadn't had the best of relationships, yet Riley had initially been happy to see him. Then he'd been dismayed; maybe he'd been hoping for some sort of reconciliation between them.

"Maybe Alan will go away on his own," Abigail suggested. She could be quite the optimist when the mood struck her. Actually, it was odd that my outlook on the Poole situation was so bleak. Usually I was the one with the unfailingly sunny outlook.

"I hope he _does _go away. I don't think he showed up just to reconnect with his long-lost brother. You should've seen the way he treated me, all slimy and fawning," It was hard to believe that Riley and Alan were actually related, when I thought about it. Their personalities were completely different.

"You don't think," Abigail trailed off, frowning worriedly. "I mean, Riley did just become a millionaire. You don't think Alan's only here for his money, do you?" A horrible sinking feeling entered my stomach. I certainly wouldn't put it past Alan. The way he'd acted towards me suggested he was searching for fame and fortune, that he would do anything to get it – even forcibly integrate himself with a well-known figure so he could become famous by association. I was suddenly very worried for my friend. I couldn't imagine that Riley would refuse to give Alan money; after all, Alan was his brother. But what if Alan wanted more? There were all sorts of frightening scenarios entering my head, kidnapping topping the list. Would Alan go that far? I didn't know enough about the older Poole to guess either way, but for the time being I had to assume that he wouldn't. Riley would ask for help if he felt threatened, wouldn't he?

"I hope not," I answered Abigail. "I really, really hope not."

* * *

Thanks again for taking the time to read!  
Also, thanks for all the kind reviews! It means so much to hear from you guys!  
I'm warning you now, Alan's coming back in the next chapter. It'll be fun times all around!  
Until next time!

~Craic


	5. Interlope

**A/n - **I'm so incredibly sorry that this took so long to post! Real Life has been a bear, what with the fact that I'm moving on Saturday (packing sucks) and school is starting soon. So here's my peace offering: an Alan chapter! I know the plot is moving slowly (my bad updating habits only exacerbates the situation) but rest assured it should pick up soon. I have big plans for upcoming chapters. Big, big plans.

**Disclaimer** - I do not own many things. National Treasure is one of them. If you want to sue me, you'll get a mismatched collection of kitchenware and I won't be able to do any cooking -- which is okay, because I can't cook anyway.

**Also - **This chapter is unbetaed, for I lost my beloved **Rhiannon Aurorafai **to college (curse you semester system!). I did go over it diligently, though, and I think I caught all of the random tense shifts.

**Also Also -**I'm absurdly proud of this chapter's word. Bonus points to anyone who has read "The Interlopers" by Saki.

* * *

**_Interlope  
_**_[in-ter-lohp]_  
_-verb (used without object)  
1. to intrude into some region or field of trade without a proper license._  
_2. to thrust oneself into the affairs of others._

* * *

I didn't sleep well that night. I couldn't stop worrying about Riley. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Alan angrily advancing on Riley, obviously ready to attack the younger man.

One part of my mind was positive that I was overreacting. Just because Alan had appeared so soon after the discovery of the treasure did not mean that he was after Riley's newfound wealth. Perhaps the brothers had lost track of each other over the years, and Alan had only been able to find Riley by way of the innumerable newscasts and magazine articles about us. It was a possibility, one that I couldn't discount. It wouldn't be fair to automatically assume the worst about Alan on the sole basis that he picked an inconvenient and highly suspicious time to show up. After all, he hadn't inquired about Riley's wealth. In fact, he had seemed exasperated by Riley's interest in treasure hunting.

The rest of my mind, however, was convinced that Abigail's fearful speculations were true. Yet I had no real evidence, only gut feelings. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to trust gut feelings alone. Yes, the entire treasure hunt had been based on the fact that my gut told me the legend was true, but it had made a grave error in trusting Ian Howe. Perhaps this was a similar case. Perhaps I could trust Alan, despite my instincts telling me not to. After all, they had told me to trust Ian, and that hadn't turned out well at all. Only quick thinking and desperation had saved Riley and I on the _Charlotte_.

There was also the added mystery of Riley's past. There was definitely some sort of hidden issue between the Poole brothers, one that I felt would shed a lot of light on the current relationship between Alan and Riley. Riley certainly seemed disconcerted by Alan's sudden appearance, though he tried to hide it. I wished Riley would just tell me about it, instead of evading my inquiries. I could help him deal with whatever issues Alan's arrival brought up. This wasn't selfish curiosity about my secretive best friend. I was legitimately worried about him.

The same worry found me at Riley's apartment at 9am. I knew Riley wouldn't be awake for a few hours yet; he considered anything prior to 11am an 'ungodly hour'. As a peace offering, I brought him coffee. He wasn't fully functional until he had a shot of espresso, and even then it took him a half-hour to be fully aware of his surroundings.

But to my immense surprise, a completely awake and fully dressed Riley greeted me at the door. He was obviously confused by my presence, greeting me and asking exactly _why _I'd decided to show up on his doorstep at nine o'clock in the morning. He wasn't too confused, I noted, to snag one of the coffees out of my hand. He knew which one was his – it was the cup with all of the extra specifications written on it. I like my coffee black, and he likes his needlessly sweet. Sometime I think he makes his order needlessly complicated just to annoy the barista.

"I… uh, I wanted to see if you wanted breakfast or something," I answered lamely. I really hadn't taken the time to formulate an excuse. I couldn't imagine that Riley would take 'I don't like your brother for some reason and I was worried about you since he seems to make you anxious' very well, no matter how true it was.

"Thanks, but I already have plans," Riley was tense, and I knew exactly where this was going. Few things would have Riley up and about this early in the morning.

"Alan?" I really didn't need to ask, but I needed the confirmation. Alan Poole had beaten me. I knew it was going to come sooner or later. I couldn't hide Riley from his brother forever. I just wished I'd had another day to subtly gain more information about who this mysterious Alan figure was. I had the impression that if Riley and Alan did get some time alone, I would never figure out what was going on. Riley wasn't exactly the type that would ask for help, unless it was a life-or-death scenario. It didn't help that Riley's perception of 'life-or-death' was distinctly different from mine.

"Yeah, he called last night and asked if I wanted to go for breakfast. But if you want to do lunch or something…" Riley trailed off, and I could tell that he distinctly did _not _want to have lunch with me. I wasn't hurt by the realization. Well, I was a little hurt, but not too hurt to realize that Riley wanted to be alone after dining with his brother. He had to know why Alan was taking him to breakfast. I could only assume that there was going to be a very serious sort of conversation between the brothers, and I desperately wished I had some idea about what was going on.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have plans with Abigail," I lied. I'm not the most convincing liar in the world, and usually Riley could call my bluffs. I think he was too preoccupied with his impending meeting with his brother to notice, and he nodded absentmindedly as he sipped his coffee.

"Maybe tomorrow then," He didn't meet my eyes as he talked, preferring to stare into his coffee cup. He definitely had some sort of inkling as to why Alan was in town. Apparently my misgivings were not unfounded. I want to say that thought was a relief, but it wasn't. For once, I'd wanted to be wrong about something. I desperately wanted Alan's presence to make my friend happy, not morose and insecure and whatever other depressing emotions he was experiencing.

"Yeah. Lunch?" I asked. I wasn't going to drag Riley out of bed any earlier than he was used to. Alan may be Riley's brother, but I definitely knew more about the kid's habits and personality.

"I get to pick the place?" he asked, sounding ridiculously hopeful. This whole Alan thing was worse than I thought. Sure, Riley had seemed a bit off yesterday, but he had still been acting like Riley. Now he sounded more like an insecure kid instead of the loyal, wise-cracking techie that I considered my best friend.

"Of course," the reassurance went a long way in restoring Riley to his usual personality. He perked up immediately and grinned at me, finally meeting my eyes.

"Riley!" neither of us had heard Alan approach, and both of us nearly jumped at the sudden sound of his voice. Alan was standing not too far down the hall, and I had the distinct impression that he'd been there a while. I was certainly glad I'd beaten Alan to Riley's apartment; I wasn't sure how I would've reacted if Riley had been gone. It is safe to say that I would have panicked a bit. One can never be too sure when it comes to newly-acquired wealth and long-lost relatives.

"Hi Alan," Riley greeted, though his smile was forced. Alan didn't notice. It was remarkable that these two were brothers. Alan was once again dressed nicely, with nary a hair out of place. I got the impression that he usually dressed so, with upscale designer names gracing his outfit. Riley, on the other hand, usually wore jeans, a T-shirt with printed with a nerdy or sarcastic remark, a random hoodie, and his ubiquitous Converse. This time he'd made an attempt at dressing nicely, which meant he was wearing a button-down shirt and was leaving the house sans sweatshirt. He was still wearing the Chucks, and they contrasted sharply with Alan's dressier shoes.

"Are you ready to go?" Alan asked. Riley gave a quick nod, his eyes flickering to me. He must have noticed my dislike towards Alan, for his cheeks reddened a bit. Alan noticed Riley's gaze, and he fixed me with his predatory grin. "Hello, Ben."

"Alan," I gave him a nod of greeting. His smile faded a bit, but the gleam in his eyes remained. I really did not like this man. I wish I had a real basis for my feelings towards him; he gave off extremely bad vibes and he seemed altogether untrustworthy, but to my knowledge he hadn't done anything wrong. I'm all for due process and innocent until proven guilty, but I couldn't help but formulate the worst possible conjectures about Alan.

"I'll, um, meet you for lunch tomorrow, Ben," Riley said, breaking the sudden tension between Alan and I. "I'll call you tonight or something." I gave him a look suggesting dire punishments if he failed to call me. If he didn't, I was fully prepared to hunt Alan down. If I could find a treasure that had been hidden for 200 years, I was definitely capable of finding Alan should he hurt Riley in any way.

The hallway was silent as Riley left the apartment and locked the door behind him. I was more or less content to study the respective body languages of the Poole brothers. It was obvious that Alan considered himself the 'alpha male' of the pair; he was cool and confident, a slight smile on his lips as he watched Riley nervously fumble with the apartment key. As for Riley, he was obviously anxious about _something_, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. I wanted to say it was because of Alan's presence, but Riley was stronger than that. The mere _presence _of a person wasn't enough to make him nervous. He'd certainly been in far more dangerous situations with far more dangerous people – at least, I _hoped _Alan wasn't as dangerous as Shaw or Ian. It was hard for me to determine the threat of a man I knew almost nothing about, and I was notoriously bad at judging people.

Riley gave me a small, apologetic wave as he left with Alan. I stood at his door for another minute, wondering if I should let myself in and wait for him to come home. I don't think he really wanted me to leave, and Alan wouldn't stick around if I was there. I had the distinct impression that the older Poole didn't like me very much, despite the fact that I am fabulously wealthy. The so-called 'half of a percent' was more than any normal human needed, regardless of Riley's complaints. If Alan was after Riley's money, wouldn't he try to get some of mine as well? Or, on the other hand, maybe he considered me a threat to his nefarious plans to obtain some of Riley's wealth. There was also always the possibility that my thoughts were entirely wrong, and Alan had only benign intentions towards his younger brother.

But it was Riley's reaction to Alan's presence that firmed my belief that Alan was up to no good. Riley was very rarely panicky or nervous. He'd never seemed particularly bothered by the aggressive displays of Ian and his men, barring the situation on the _Charlotte_. Even then, he didn't freak out; he had relied on me to get us out of that mess, and he'd listened to me when I'd directed him towards the stowaway bunker. Riley had remained mostly calm during that exceedingly dangerous car chase through Washington, DC, and he had kept his head while Shaw had pursued him in Philadelphia. He met danger and adversity with a snide remark; I'm sure it was a coping mechanism of some description, but he never showed any signs of panic.

The fact that it was Alan that brought out Riley's anxiety made me worried – and curious. I really hoped that Riley trusted me enough to fill me in on whatever hi-jinks Alan was up to, and that he would come to me for help if he needed it. Yes, Riley was unfailingly loyal, but I wondered if he really expected reciprocation. He rarely asked me for help, even if he really needed it. He seemed to think I wouldn't want to be bothered with him, when the reality was quite the opposite.

I really hoped that Riley wouldn't forget to call me.

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Thank you for reading!  
I actually have the next chapter written; it just needs to be edited a bit before posting.  
Hopefully you won't have to wait two months this time around...  
Please say nice things in your reviews!

~Craic


	6. Acquiesce

**A/n - **So it's been a while, and I honestly don't have much to offer. This chapter underwent more rewrites than I've ever seen. But I promised several people that I'd post in December, so I figured I probably should honor said promise. Enjoy?

**Disclaimer - **Everything in here belongs to someone else, including the restaurant.

**Acknowledgments -** Thanks to my betas, **Rhiannon Aurorafai **and **19personality **for making sure I don't post nonsense and for being quite blunt with regards to my plot. This chapter is also dedicated to **Autumnights **and **anger without enthusiasm**, who took the time to remind me that yes, I still have fans despite the infrequency of updates. Much love goes out to the four of you!

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_**Acquiesce  
**[ak-wee-ES]  
-verb (used without object)  
to assent tacitly; submit or comply silently or without protest; agree; consent: to acquiesce halfheartedly in a business plan_

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I tapped my fingers idly on the Formica table and glanced at my watch for the third time in the past five minutes. Of course Riley was late – I should have known better than to expect otherwise. He seemed to operate on his own clock, which apparently ran a good five to ten minutes slower than Eastern Standard Time.

He had called me yesterday afternoon, as per instruction. I had paid close attention to his tone, searching for any indication of how his breakfast with Alan had gone. Riley had sounded fine, though perhaps a little overeager to set up a lunch date with me. I wondered if it had anything to do with Alan, and if Riley would even tell me if it did. I had refrained from asking about it. I knew from previous experience that Riley wasn't going to want to talk about it. He was remarkably secretive about his brother, which worried me to no end.

I glanced at my watch again, then went back to idly staring at the menu. The waitress had already stopped by, and I had ordered coffee. Yes, it was nearly two o'clock, but I knew that this little diner had some of the best coffee on the East Coast. I wasn't going to pass it up just because coffee doesn't really go well with a hamburger.

Somehow or another, I didn't see Riley until he slid into the seat opposite me. I looked down at the menu, then looked back up and saw him sitting there grinning at me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me like that?" I demanded, though there was no real fire in my voice. Riley just smirked as he opened his menu.

"It's hard not to," Riley commented, immediately flipping to the pie section of the menu. "You're always so enthralled by whatever you're doing that you wouldn't notice a polka band if it materialized in your living room."

"What… a polka band?" I asked with a chuckle. I really didn't know where Riley came up with things like that. He certainly seemed normal; after all, he was coming up with weird sayings again. Maybe Alan was leaving and Riley would finally go back to being himself. I certainly wouldn't be displeased if that was the reason for the Poole breakfast date yesterday.

"Yes, Ben. A polka band," Riley humored me. "I think I want the German Chocolate Pie. And… a vanilla milkshake."

"Are you sure you don't want something that resembles actual food?" I inquired. I knew it was a pointless question. Every time we came to this diner, Riley would order the same thing: pie and a shake. It was a different flavor of pie and milkshake every time; I assumed Riley was going to try every possible combination.

"Ben, what have I told you about Heidi's? Their pies are awesome!" Riley looked at me over the top of the menu. His tone was exasperated, but his eyes shined with good humor. "Besides, who are you to talk? You have coffee. It's two o'clock."

"I'd say it's well after two o'clock," I retorted. I had missed this banter with Riley. He was in remarkably good spirits today. I had expected him to be in a rotten mood due to Alan's continued presence, but Riley seemed completely fine. I was baffled, but pleased. I was content to have normal Riley back. Yes, I still wondered what was up with Alan's presence, and definitely wanted to learn about Riley's childhood, but I wasn't going to pry if Riley didn't want me to – especially if Riley was no longer bothered by Alan.

"Touché," Riley replied. He scanned the menu for another moment, then put it down on the table.

"So, why were you late this time?" I asked, anticipating some humorous anecdote about crazy bus drivers or how he'd once again seen the volunteers from the local animal shelter enticing donations through 'strategic use of puppies' and he'd stood there for an hour playing with the dogs.

Riley shifted uncomfortably, all good humor suddenly gone. My heart sank. I knew that his reason had to do with Alan. Nobody else could have caused Riley's mood to shift so suddenly.

"Well, Alan called about something," Riley admitted. "Believe it or not, he's one of those people that will not shut up when he's on the phone. I had a girlfriend like that in college, she made me late to class more times than I really care to count." Riley's attempt to change the subject was not lost on me.

"What did he want?" I asked. Riley's face fell farther upon realizing his deflection had failed.

"It's not important," Riley shook his head. To say I was sick of this would be a huge understatement. There was only so much of Riley's bad mood and cover-ups for his brother that I could take. Alan was up to something and he had gotten Riley involved, I was sure of it. Riley was unhappy, which made me unhappy. When I was unhappy, I went to do something about it. Getting Riley to open up would not be easy, but I was tired of turning a blind eye to how much Alan was affecting him.

"Riley, I'm your friend, right?" I asked. I really hoped he'd say yes. After everything we'd been through together, I certainly hoped that he would consider me a friend. Riley was obviously surprised by the sudden question.

"Of course you are," Riley replied, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. He wasn't sure where I was going with my line of questioning, and that made him nervous. Just as long as he didn't try to run away, I was completely OK with him being nervous.

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong?" I tried to put all of my concern for him in that one sentence. I hoped he would pick up on my worry and not balk. I wasn't sure what I would do if he did. But I had to know! I couldn't just sit there and think the worst about Alan any longer. I had to know if he was a threat to my friend.

"Ben, it's no problem. I can handle it," Riley said. He was looking down at the table. A small frown had formed on his face, which was a definite change from the non-emotion he had displayed previously whenever Alan was brought up. I took it as a good sign.

"I'm sure you can," I assured him. I didn't want him to think that I was worried that he couldn't handle his own problems. That wasn't the issue here.

Oh, who was I kidding? I _was_ worried that he couldn't handle his problems. Yes, Riley was a proud, independent guy. He liked to handle things on his own. Yet sometimes he got himself in over his head, and he would still refrain from asking for much-needed help. It was certainly one of his more infuriating traits. I was afraid that whatever problems Alan brought were too much for Riley to handle alone.

"Then why do you keep asking?" Riley asked. He was still wearing that slight frown. I could hear the unspoken addendum to the question: _It's my problem. Why do you care?_ I thought I had established that I cared about Riley enough to worry about him if he wasn't firing on all cylinders or if something was bothering him. Yes, our friendship had a very rocky start, but I thought I had more than made up for it. Apparently, I still hadn't quite gotten through to him.

"Because I'm worried about you," Honesty really was the best policy here. I had to get it through to Riley that I wanted to help. I wasn't about to judge him based on whatever problems his brother brought.

Riley looked surprised for a moment, then the emotion faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. "It's really nothing to worry about," he said, offering a small shrug. It was my turn to frown this time. How could he say something like that? There was obviously a problem between him and Alan! What else could explain the mood swings?

"I don't believe you at all," I replied. Riley blinked at me for a few seconds, obviously not quite computing what I just said.

"You… what?" he spluttered. I had caught him off guard. It was time to go in for the kill, metaphorically speaking.

"I don't believe you when you say that it's nothing to worry about. Alan is obviously bothering you. I just want to help. Maybe if I knew what was going on between the two of you, I could help you fix it," I leaned back and took a sip of my coffee, giving Riley a chance to figure out what I just said and formulate a response. I hoped I had gotten through to him. I was tired of the song and dance he was putting up as a diversion, and I was _really _tired of seeing him go quiet whenever Alan was brought up. I just wanted some answers, and I wanted to fix whatever problem Riley had found himself in.

I was suddenly well aware that the waitresses had stayed away from our table, and I was grateful. A waitress would have given Riley an opportunity to change the subject and start talking about pie – and once that happened, there would be no other topic of conversation for at _least _fifteen minutes. I wasn't entirely sure how Riley could carry a fifteen minute, one-sided conversation about pie, but I had heard him do it before and I was quite sure that he could do it again.

"Alan just…" Riley swallowed convulsively, and I mentally chastised myself for spacing out. I was _trying_ to get Riley to open up, and it was _miraculously_ working, and I just _had_ to start musing about pie. How ridiculous. "Alan means well, he does."

"I'm sure," I agreed, prompting Riley to continue. My heard completely disagreed with the sentiment. I wouldn't put it past Alan to intentionally bring up whatever-it-was that caused Riley so much pain and uncertainty. Of course, I wasn't going to go out and insult Alan to Riley's face, since Riley apparently still had some measure of respect and care for his brother. Doing so would not facilitate Riley's sudden desire to tell me what was wrong.

"But he has this habit of bringing things up, things I would rather not think about," Riley admitted. He looked up at me, his eyes searching my face for reassurance. I was only too happy to give it. I was thrilled he was at least _trying _to open up to me. It was a start.

"What sort of things?" I asked. Riley glanced away, but I didn't miss the pain that flickered in his eyes. It hurt me to see it, but it was nothing I hadn't anticipated. My goal was to make that pain go away, to the best of my ability.

"I knew you were going to ask that," he admitted. "But first, I'm going to need that pie."

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Sorry for the filler/setup chapter, but it had to be done.  
Expect questions to be answered next chapter!  
Have a happy holidays everyone!

~Craic


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